


The Graves we Dig

by HappyRager



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is just our protagonist but he is not the good guy, Alexander is not the hero in this story, Ambiguous Morality, Biblical References, Corruption, Eliza is a cinnamon roll, F/F, F/M, I'm a hot mess, Infedelity, Multi, Reincarnation AU, committing unforgivable sins in the eyes of the church, denial of heaven, heavy on catholic biblical use, literal biblical sinning, maybe like one diamond, never thought i'd tag the founding fathers for this kind of sin, no one in this au is a good person, not sorry, political corruption, sodomy, the demon au no asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:35:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyRager/pseuds/HappyRager
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When they say to you, "Consult the mediums and the spiritists who whisper and mutter," should not a people consult their God? Should they consult the dead on behalf of the living? To the law and to the testimony! If they do not speak according to this word, it is because they have no dawn." Isaiah 8:19-20<br/>They say that we say and do things that are often out of our understanding, we are just the actors in a play the gods construct for us, so what makes those that deviate from the script and takes the pen into their hands and try to control what they do not understand.<br/>OR;<br/>the literal demon au no one ever asked for</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Graves we Dig

‘Raise a glass to freedom’

Death was strange, it was a welcomed feeling; perhaps that was why it was so odd to stare up at the sky. His body lay next to him but he could feel the burning in his ribs as he was hefted away, Burr looked distraught. Good, he should feel bad for killing someone.

“You're quite the vengeful one aren't you, Hamilton?” A voice asked from what could have been behind him, beneath him? He wasn't quite sure. He sat up and the world melted into an inky black, looking up he saw John Laurens and George Washington looking at him with a patient smile, his mother watching him holding Philip like she held him. 

“Burr got what he deserved.” Alex hummed, even after he died he wouldn't show any form of humility. “He wanted the duel he knew one of us would die, I just wish I had more time.” He complained, the disembodied voice gave a chuckle. Alexander took in his surroundings, he was on a stage, the wooden floor creaking underneath him he could feel the strain of old wood.

“I know exactly what you mean, but what if I could give you more time? As much time as you want.” Alex looked forward, the voice seemed to come from all directions. His interest had been piqued, he was dead how could he possibly get more time. He looked up and Washington was holding his hand down, he started to reach up- before he was pulled back much like a painting he’d once heard of. A pale hand grabbed his and made him look down to a small boy with milky white eyes.

“You established what will soon be the most corrupt form of government, come with me and I can make you powerful, give you more time, anything you want it's yours. If you only were to give yourself to me.” The child spoke with the same voice he’d been hearing.

“Who are you anyways?” Alex’s eyes cast up and his friends, they all were staring at him with an expression on their face he'd only seen twice on his son and the general. Fear, why were they so fearful? George mouthed something but he couldn't understand it.

“I am many things, youngling. I am your neighbors, I am what people blame when things go wrong yet never thanked for things that go right. I am given to you as the first breath and I am who waits for you when you die.” The voice surrounded him and he could swear it was in front of him at one point. “However, you show the vessel I chose to take kindness so I am by proxy in your debt.” 

Alex remembered, this boy was shot on the battlefield and he sat with him and comforted him until he died, he remembered promising this boy that he would always protect him. He couldn’t save him in the end and he was harshly reminded of his passing mortality.

“I want to go back.” Alex breathed out when his attention was brought back to the situation at hand. “I want to do things over and do it my way, if you can help me do that.” He looked up and Philip looked crushed, Laurens looked so scared it was unfitting on his face, the general he was disappointed. He looked back down in front of him to see a glass filled with ink it seemed, except this ink seemed to consume any light that touched it.

 

“By doing this you resign yourself to becoming a demon. You will never see your friends again, they will move on in the system of life but you will remain a constant. Are you willing to give up your fragile humanity?” The liquid in the cup glowed with a galaxy beneath it. “Your humanity for your legacy.”

“Legacy, what is a legacy?” Alex stated with a cynical chuckle bubbling in his chest, he remembered what Jefferson spat in his face once; that he wasn’t human- he was just a being of witchcraft the way he would work Wall Street. Brown eyes stared at the cup and lifted it to the sky, his eyes wandered up and he saw Angelica and Eliza, both looked distraught he hesitated for a moment. “My love, take your time, I'll see you on the other side.” He downed the glass and soon as the liquid touched his throat he dropped the glass, it vanished in the black puddle forming under his feet soaking his shoes and toes. 

The pain was agonizing, the act of separating the souls from the body was a slow and painful process the body in the living world seized until the brain stopped. Eliza sobbed over her now deceased husband, Angelica whispered comforting words to her sister.

After that portion of the hellish torture was through it came time for warping the soul away from its humanity, Alexander cried out reaching towards His friends and family on the other side, when did Eliza join them- Angelica looked down upon him with grief as he reached out to his former wife, only to have Washington lead her away.

Alex let out a wail of agony as he reached out to John and Philip who looked as though they were reaching out to him, he cried out- disgusting black tears tracked down his face as he was dragged into the black of hell that would change away his humanity.

He stretched up one last time to see Burr and Jefferson lead Philip and John away from him and a cold rage seared through his person.

“No!” He growled out as his veins contrasted against his skin in a hard black and his eyes matched light sucking colour that surrounded him. “Never again!” He stuck his hand out as his face went under and the rest of him followed.

It was months- days, death was no friend to the concept of time but it was when the darkness settled he could call it his friend. The pool of ink settled at his feet and he could breath again, he looked up and his friends were all gone replaced by hanging lights. 

The boy was sitting on a chair in front of him, elevated by wooden panels. “Rise my pride, tell me, what is your plan now that you have the world at your touch.” His legs slung over the arm of the chair the wound from where the body died bleeding down the white dress shirt.

Alex was filled with a cool rage that bubbled at his chest, his eyes dark with anger he restrained. “I'm going to change this world the way I was always meant to.” He acknowledged the being in front of him; the inky water pooling at his thighs. “And I’ll drag everyone to hell with me if it means I get what I want. There will be time for apologizing when we’re all dead.” he opened his arms and allowed himself to fall back into the pool of darkness, welcoming it’s cool touch. 

\-------

The shrill scream of an alarm startled a teen out of his bed in a rickety apartment, tumbling onto the floor in a tangled mess of blankets and limbs. Alexander Hamilton was an orphaned immigrant from New orleans, his mother and father both killed in Hurricane Katrina they were from the Caribbean. His mother was a housekeeper and his father did construction, he never saw them much but they tried their best to give him the world. 

“Hey, Hey man breathe. It was a bad dream again.” A voice shook him out of his thoughts, when had he been speaking aloud, when did his roommate; John Laurens, welcome himself into his room? “I could hear you hyperventilating from my room. Breathe, do you need your meds?” he pressed on, curly hair knotted into a ponytail at the back of his hair. Alex gave a firm nod as John disappeared he put a hand to his chest.

This wasn’t the first time he had that dream. He looked at the mirror adjacent to the door and saw a version of him with smoke dripping off of his frame and his skin pulled into a grim line with a greenish gold hue. The eyes staring at his were not his, cold dark eyes you couldn’t see the white the pupils were so dilated. Alex blinked and rubbed his eyes and when his eyes opened again the hellish vision of him was replaced with a disheveled 100% bonafide human. It was the hallucinations again- it wasn’t him, he wasn’t a monster. It was the trauma, it’s always messed with him. Grief changes people, it just made him completely insane. 

It felt like John was gone an eternity, he pressed the meds into Alex’s mouth and forced him to swallow his water. After that Alex broke down and John held him, a grim line across his face. Alex was known to have days where he just couldn’t pick himself up out of his grief, he had sad eyes that had more wisdom than most saw but John knew; he and Alex had been friends since they were in the system together. John was there from his abusive father and Alex had no parents entirely. After a good fight they’d been inseparable since, they never got rehomed from the Hamilton private orphanage once they got there, comfortably living with the images of Eliza Hamilton and Alexander Hamilton staring them down with looks of judgement, the eyes of the gods they would always joke.

On one particularly hard sob the window cracked, John turned his head and growled “Damn hoodlums thinking they’re hood shit.” he ran his fingers through Alex’s greasy hair, he would push him to shower later. He peeled himself out from under alex once he calmed down enough and was laying on the floor and working on his breathing.

John looked out the broken window and frowned “I’ll have to call mulligan. Maybe he can fix the window.” Alex let out a weak grunt of amusement. “C’mon man, get up go shower we both have work soon.” they both worked for George Washington in his political party. Alexander was a PA and John was human resources.

Alex gave a nod as he picked himself off the ground and slugged into the bathroom. He would talk to John about what he’d been seeing after work.

The rest of his morning was a whirlwind around his xanax’d self, it was as if he was underwater and everyone was helping him do his Job. John lead him inside and planted him in George’s office so the Boss could decide what to do with his PA, he really had the position because George thought it was amusing he could rehire his previous life’s secretary and watch him be exactly the same, for the most part. There was some clear differences that placed the two apart but he’d never say anything as long as he was unaware. Most of his staff were aware of their previous lives but anyone who wasn’t they never told. It often held a negative backlash.

George let the boy sleep on his couch as he disappeared into meetings for the day, when he returned Alex was at his desk typing away at an email he had instructed him to draft. 

“You feeling alright, son?” George put a hand on the young man’s shoulder who jumped up in fear.

“Yes sir! I’m fine, sir. I just- have you, it’s stupid but humor me, sir. Have you ever felt like this world isn’t real, that you’ve done this before?” He asked with a slightly lost look on his face. George raised an eyebrow and briefly wondered if he was starting to remember his previous life.

“Deja vu you mean?” George asked amused, pulling his arms back to cross them and signal Hamilton to go on with his notion.

“I guess, sir. I just feel like I’ve done this before- and that I need to change something, maybe it’s the email, once I get it done I’ll send it to you sir, for you to look over and change, sir.” Alex turned back to his computer. “Sorry for taking your time, sir.” he apologized briefly. 

“It’s alright, son. If you ever want to talk my door is always open. Go on your lunch, the email will be waiting for you when you get back.” George dismissed him entering his office leaving the Creole man by himself.

Alex pushed himself away from the desk, maybe it would be good for him to step away, He pulled up from his chair going towards the Cafeteria they had down stairs for all of them to congregate during their lunch hour. He usually would hole himself up in his office and do more work but today he had a feeling he should be down stairs with his friends.

“Hey, Alex!” Lafayette greeted his friend, the french american man had a large grin on his face as he sat with them.

“Hey.” He waved to everyone at the table, they all lapsed into silence all respectively eating their food. They had a rule to eat first then talk, to make sure all of them were eating before doing whatever they had to do.

“My my if it isn’t the rag tag group of heroes.” George Eacker taunted as he entered the break room they were all in and alexander narrowed his eyes. 

“Leave us alone.” Aaron Burr bristled at the other man, he was a lackey for George, did any grunt work he didn’t want to do.

“I see you have the alien with you, maybe plural since Lafayette’s documented history is sketchy at best, I mean at least Hamilton has documentation.” He egged them on knowing they couldn’t do anything. It didn’t stop Alexander from getting pissed off.

“If you keep persisting then I’ll write you up, Eacker.” John called him out with no room for argument in his voice.

“Go ahead! If it means that I get my point across, we all know washington’s a push over and won’t do anything, I mean he did hire all of his bastard children.” he poked some more, Alexander stood his fists balled as the lights flickered again, though no one paid much attention- more concerned about Alexander possibly wailing into a coworker.

“You wanna say that again, Eacker?” a cool rage settled into his stomach, the kind that felt like your skin got burnt and the adrenaline takes over so the sting is still there but the initial pain is not, the type of feeling that made him feel invincible, powerful. Like he could do anything and not ever get in trouble.

“You’re a Creole Bastard who doesn’t understand how stupid you really are, honestly if I didn’t know any better I’d think you’d been sucking Washington’s cock for your position.” Eacker stated, he barely got his sentence finished before Alex lunged across the table and his hands wrapped around Eacker’s throat, aiming to kill him.

“You Mother Fucker!” He shouted as he settled himself on top of Eacker punching him, he felt so out of control, like he was watching his body punch Eacker’s his hand firmly wrapped around his targets throat, and his blood was racing, the sheer fact that he could possibly kill Eacker was entirely too pleasing to him. He watched as his friends raced over to him trying to pry him off the unconscious Eacker, when he saw his face black eyes met his and he was yanked back into his body, giving him a massive headache once all the feelings rushing to his mind.

He only fully came to a stop when Mulligan punched him in the face, causing his face to snap to the direction he was hit in, all time came to a stop- like a weird time hiccup, as the fist connected to his face. When he looked up he saw the boy from his dreams laughing as him holding up the number one. He turned his head to look back at mulligan, he could only imagine how wild he looked.

“Alexander!” George Washington called with fury in his voice. This was when he could finally focus, the blood pounding in his ears made it hard to hear but the silence was louder, Eacker was a mess on the floor blood oozing from his face and dark purple bruises in the shape of his fingers on his throat. Eliza and Maria were kneeling next to Eacker, wide terrified eyes watching Alexander. Angelica was holding Peggy back calling an ambulance, and possibly the police. Lafayette was wrapped around his legs and John was holding his arms back. Hercules was standing in front of him, his eyes narrowed and he was taking short breaths.

George was dreading this day, the day Alexander remembered something, he had his thoughts and feared he’d remember something negative. He was prepared for this however, what he wasn’t prepared for was Alexander looking completely wild and actually almost killing George Eacker, though the man deserved it.

“Hercules rough him up more, we’re about to stage a self defense.” he instructed and Hercules nodded and laid into Hamilton after an affirmative nod. “The story is the Eacker egged Hamilton on and attacked him and Hamilton reacted in self defense. Any questions? No? If anyone argues with me you can leave.” He watched Alex crumble to the floor and everyone circle close. 

“What do we do next?” Eliza asked softly, getting George’s attention, she was always the wise one. She remembered who she was before anyone else did. 

“We steer the ship through the storm and hope we can all make it out of this.” George stated with an affirmative voice.

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be updated as I can, it's mostly just writing practice for myself to get back into the habit of writing again.


End file.
